.
Mrs Marshall arranged the sunflowers with the greatest care. In the vase, set upon the oval of the large mahogany table that occupied the centre of the room, they were to appear as innocent and cheerful as in a painting from the late nineteenth century.
“What do you think, dear?”
Mr Marshall offered no comment. He did not so much as glance at the colourful display which, instinctively, stirred in him a sense of unease. Mr Marshall was reading the newspaper with meticulous fingers and eyes.
“There’ll be a war soon!”
Mrs Marshall adjusted the violent yellow that flared within the crystal. No, those sunflowers must seem as innocuous and pure as a child’s toy. When the statesmen sat down around that arrangement, perhaps they might spare a thought for life, for childhood, for those creatures who quietly hold a vital place in our hearts.
“Before the war comes, anything is worth doing to prevent it,” said Mrs Marshall.
Before war comes, everything has always been worth trying to prevent it — so say we.
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